


the complexities of a simple love

by goodwineandcheese



Category: Monster
Genre: Fluff, Grimmer's Very Strong Feelings, Hugging, Introspection, Kissing, M/M, Sensuality, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23761945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodwineandcheese/pseuds/goodwineandcheese
Summary: Grimmer knows he loves Tenma. He only wonders if he knows how to say it.
Relationships: Wolfgang Grimmer/Tenma Kenzou
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55





	the complexities of a simple love

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little Guriten piece. I was feeling soft

“I love you.”

They were words he had heard before. Spoken by her, years ago. Spoken by _him,_ from day to day.

He remembered when she said it the first time. Her eyes had been bright with a charm, her heart surely just as much so. She had kissed and kissed him, had pressed her body near to his so as to be held. When he held her, it was with a stiffness; he never knew, had never known this sort of intimacy before. He was never taught the way - how a man should hold a woman, how he was to kiss her. His arms were rigid, his hands infirm. Still, as his fingers pallidly traced her cheekbone, she said it again. _I love you._

He learned, over time, how he was supposed to act. How she liked to be touched. He recognized soft gasps of pleasure, learned to let her guide him. He performed adequately, provided her company and pleasure both. 

He never understood, not then, that she had craved more. He understood too late, much too late to hope their marriage could recover. She said _I love you_ with such earnest feeling, but from his lips it came flatly. Cold. She felt he was cold, that was the word that she used when she left. Heartless, and she wasn’t wrong. He felt no deep affection as he should have, then. He felt no heartbreak when she left him. 

_I love you._

Tenma said those words with such a smile, such a wistful look. Grimmer watched him sometimes, the quiet way he would smile, how his eyes would soften and melt and glow in sunlight, turning to meet his gaze. Sometimes he didn’t look; he would say those words, that quiet _I love you_ , to the wind and the wind would carry it softly to Grimmer.

It was different, now. He _felt,_ now. Slowly, with time, emotions that he could never have understood bloomed to the surface. He could hardly hope to grasp what those words did to him, spoken from a place of love on such a tender voice. It would make his heart turn warm and soft, had the power to stop time. When Tenma said those three words there was nothing else in the world.

Could he possibly return such delicate words? “I love you too…” but could he say it right? Perhaps his voice should be gentler. Was there meant to be a wavering, a tremble in his tone, so brimmed with feeling he could hardly control it? The words came so coolly on his tongue. And Tenma would smile, he would turn fondly with a smile and say nothing. At the very least, his light never dimmed. If Grimmer was failing as a lover, Tenma did not say so.

It was terribly complex, this feeling. Grimmer recognized now, in his own heart, the deep intricacy of emotion. Happy and sad could be one and the same, under the correct circumstance. And love...love...he was learning this one, he was learning love. It was many pieces fitted together, shaped differently from one person to the next. The feeling of “love” that he had for Tenma…

Curiosity had been the place where it started. An intrigue into the man behind those articles, the man who, even then, Grimmer could be assured was innocent. That doctor, a man burdened with his past...he was a kind person, certainly someone that could be well enough liked. But what it was that became love…

There was a sameness, a place of empathy that they shared. Tenma wore his heart plainly, and Grimmer came to learn. He bore his demons as an exposed vulnerability, bravely showing them to Grimmer though Grimmer seldom spoke of his own, not at first. But there was _something_ about Tenma, _something_ that made him speak. Something that was called trust.

It was strange perhaps, that he trusted Tenma so quickly. _Him…_ he trusted no one, only himself. That was what kept him alive, was it not? And yet Tenma, this quietly pained doctor, earned it without even trying. He had done nothing to seek Grimmer’s trust but he had it nevertheless. And perhaps that was _why_ ; he hadn’t sought it out, had hardly sought Grimmer himself. He too had hoped to achieve his ends alone.

Trust and empathy, a place of relation, those things...those were the roots of a certain fondness, an affection, but they were not what stirred his heart. Those feelings came later, farther into the future, farther than Ruehenheim. The bubble that was Tenma’s laughter, the cheer and glow of his smile, such a foreign look on his weathered face, now warmed in a world free of monsters. The way that a passing breeze caught his hair, his lashes fluttering as he turned his face into the sun. Those were things that brought a new sensation to Grimmer’s chest.

The softness of his lips. Their caution, that first time. Grimmer had kissed his wife many times, but it had been a thoughtless thing, a gesture initiated for a single purpose and ended when the purpose was fulfilled. This, what Tenma gave to him, was unsuspecting, a thing that surprised both men. It had been fleeting and a touch nervous, then when it came again it was bolder. But the _feeling_ of it was caring...there was care in that kiss, a sort of speech, a communication of Tenma’s own feelings that Grimmer chose to accept. 

He kissed his wife to please her, because she wished to be kissed. Tenma kissed him to _know,_ and to _tell,_ what he could not with words. That was what he had always lacked, with her. He said nothing, knew no language of love. His lips were silent; he gave only empty gestures.

Hands...the feeling of Tenma’s hands. Fingers, gently, in his hair, or drawn along his shirt. The touch of skin, how carefully he framed Grimmer’s face and left warm tingles where his touch was drawn. Breath on his face. The simple feel as their fingers entwined, or brushed in accidental passing, the warmth of a hand held in his own. He wasn’t sure he’d ever held hers this way.

The confident feeling of a palm as it travelled his body, how he halted and waited with his hand resting over Grimmer’s thudding, thudding heart. Even the waiting brought a certain feeling to Grimmer. He took his time, he allowed himself to move slowly, to move with Grimmer. Had he ever been so conscientious of his wife? Had she ever seemed uncertain, and he never noticed? Eager, and he hadn’t known to hasten? How stiff he had been...terribly stiff, halting, resigned. Not like Tenma, who was fluid, lavishing, coaxing and yet cautious to know where boundaries were.

The quiet before sleep….he found it felt incredibly dear. The tickle of Tenma’s hair in his face, the smell of it, the smell of _him._ There was something, another feeling, a desire for that nearness. He could bury himself in it, in Tenma, his face smothered with that wild hair, pressed against the warmth of his shoulder or his neck. 

Safe...that was the feeling of Tenma. It felt safe with him, to hold and be held.

Had she ever felt safe, in his arms?

Did Tenma? 

Did he know….yes, that was the question, did he know just what it was that Grimmer felt, every night? When Tenma’s lips breathed those three soft words and he answered his reply, could he feel the weight in his voice? Did Grimmer’s heart finally learn to speak? 

He wanted this. He hoped that he...that _they_...could have this, that he could be for Tenma what Tenma was for him. What he could never be for _her_. His heart had grown so full of emotion; he could never fathom it to be empty again. Surely not to Tenma. Tenma holds the keys he never asked for.

He touches Tenma with a gentle hand. Kisses Tenma with gentler lips. Holds him close, as close as he could bear to hold him. Desperate...he is desperate for his heart to be known, for his feelings to be shared.

And that’s when Tenma turns….when he looks, with those eyes, and he smiles. He nestles there, comfortable, in Grimmer’s arms. He’s not sure how he knows; perhaps it’s the calm of his eyes, the contentment, but Tenma is comfortable there. And when his eyes flutter closed, when he whispers those words one more time, Grimmer knows, too, that Tenma understands.


End file.
